Kaleidoscope Affair
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: Moments between Zoe and Tessa. Series 1 AU.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't know what's happened to me, I think I've caught to Zoe/Tessa bug. I might do more of this if anyone wants it.**

She hadn't expected Tessa to be as soft as she is. Her exterior is so hard, but when they're alone together, there's something else about her. Zoe does not know how to explain it. There's brief doleful glimpse she catches in Tessa's eyes. The tips of her fingers are more tender against Zoe's skin than she had expected. She's softer.

Of course, there are a lot of things that surprise her about Tessa. The tiny birthmark above her left hip. The scar on her ribs, faded now, that she won't explain. Her black silk underwear that's patterned with butterflies in dark, vivid colours, tumbling together in an intense warped jumble, a kaleidoscope of colour at her breasts and her groin.

…**...**

She'd never done this with a woman before. Tessa, evidently, had. She had heard it whispered before, and wondered, watching with a not unappraising eye the movements of Tessa's lean and attractive figure though she would not care to have admitted it.

They were unmatched in their experience, but, as always, Tessa proved quite an exemplary teacher; always willing to praise- her voice soft and crooning in Zoe's ear- always willing to demonstrate. Still stern, authoritative, maintaining with superb composure the unremitting persona she presented on the Grid. But now not altogether unyielding. She is a _very _good teacher. But then, Zoe supposes, in this instance it suits her to be.

She can remember, with a vividness that makes her shudder, the first time she tasted Tessa. Buried her head between the older woman's slender legs and tasted her, pushing her tongue into her folds, insistently and uncertainly. Tessa's hands wound into her hair, holding her firmly there, tugging a little, hurting a little too- not that Zoe cared. She was lost in her musky scent, the heat and wetness of her against her tongue and her lips and the sound of Tessa's voice, throaty, still commanding as she made sounds of her approval;

"Oh God, Zoe, yes, that's it, just there. More, harder, Zoe, yes."

…**...**

Tessa has obscenely expensive sheets on her bed. Far too expensive to do this on, and one night Zoe wonders lazily how much Tessa gets through in cleaning costs just through sex alone. And white lilies in a large glass vase on the bedside table. They're always there, and she muses whether or not they're real or plastic. But they are real, they wilt and the odd petal falls onto the cold, smoothly varnished wood of the table. And a bottle of Chanel perfume resting, always in exactly the same place, by the long narrow mirror behind the bedside table.

That mirror. The mirror where she can see them, her eyes above Tessa's shoulder, as they fuck each other; two women sitting in each other's laps, their wet skin slipping blissfully over one another and writhing against each other on a ridiculously expensive bed, on white sheets under white lilies. The lines of their bodies blending smoothly and moving into one another.

…**...**

She's always found Tessa's shoes potently erotic, the unmistakeable sound they make, the plushness of their dark shimmer, the forbidding look of the pointed heels and triangular toes. She noticed them as soon as they met on the Grid, admired them. Tessa caught her looking and she felt her cheeks flush. She turned her eyes away quickly, back to her desk, but when she risked another look back, Tessa's eyes had not left her.

The first time Zoe takes the lead and fucks, _really_ fucks, Tessa- pushes her back into the bed, almost bites her as they kiss, shoves her hand inside her- she is wearing she shoes; and she ends up wearing only her shoes, and her silk stockings and hold-ups, her legs parted in the air and moaning throatily as she comes.

…**...**

After a while she learned that it was best not to sit next to Tessa in briefings. Or opposite. It's difficult to strike a balance, but the friction that Tessa's proximity is too much for her to be able to concentrate. She tries sitting away from her, but Tessa realises exactly what she's doing. Tessa is not to be evaded.

The next day Tessa comes deliberately late to the briefing and sits down with the appearance of being hurried, in the chair beside Zoe. In the chair very close beside Zoe. More than close enough for them to touch. More than close enough for her to slip her hand under the table and undo Zoe's trousers, and push her hand into her underwear. Her face was completely unperturbed, her butter-wouldn't-melt expression totally preserved as her fingers slipped between Zoe's folds and she tried not to keen, tried desperately hard to keep her breathing level.

Tessa was certainly not to be evaded.

…**...**

By God, Tessa can drink. Zoe wonders if she's the only one who notices that tonight she's had vodka in just about every drink imaginable. But no one else seems to realise, and Tessa is disconcertingly composed. She is the centre of attention, in a midnight blue dress, everyone in the embassy seems to be looking at her all through dinner. Though she could have thought how lucky she was that the envy of London that night it _her _lover, Zoe wonders how she's not completely pissed. Perhaps she is but wears it well, that would be typical Tessa. No one notices Zoe next to Tessa. Not that she would want them to. She's never known anyone else who can dazzle a room in dark blue.

But at last the alcohol has a telling effect on Tessa, one that Zoe notices anyway, and one that she's terrified someone else might spot. There's a voluptuous gleam in her eye on the occasions when her eyes flit over to Zoe, openly provocative and full of sex. It makes Zoe shudder and reach for an extra drink as well.

She pays a visit to the ladies' room. Washing her hands in the cold water, she looks up and sees Tessa's reflection from over her shoulder. They are alone and the look is there more than ever.

It was not noticeable through dinner but Tessa's dress has a slit up to the thigh. Zoe turns and their eyes meet without the mirror. And before she really knows it, Tessa's bare thigh is pressed between her own, through her dress, pinning her up against the sink and she has Tessa's red lipstick all over her collarbone.

…**...**

Tessa chooses the most surprising places to meet in public. The Sacred Glass and Silver section of the Victoria and Albert Museum. This is not where lovers or spies meet. And that is Tessa's genius.

Zoe waits for her, looking up at the colour above her, the light from the sky shining through. What does Tessa want to tell her here that she can't tell her in bed?

When she tears her eye from the glass, she sees Tessa standing in the doorway by the stairs, watching her. And in that moment Zoe thinks she loves her. She does not think it, she instinctively knows it and the realisation rises in her throat like fire. She wonders if it showed in her face. It probably did, to Tessa, whom nothing escapes.

Hurriedly, she makes her way towards the stairs where Tessa is waiting for her. It is the middle of the week and the museum is nearly empty. They are alone in the darkened stairwell.

"Hello, Zoe."

She knows.

**Please review if you have the time.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for your reviews, I'm so glad you liked it and I hope you like this. **

Sometimes Tessa is comfort. Zoe doesn't know if Tessa wants comfort in return. She never seems to; she never asks for it and when Tessa wants something she generally has no qualms about asking for it outright. She seems to be happy enough with the notion of sex, just sex. Tessa can sting too, at times. All to painfully, Zoe remembers briefings when Tessa has crushed her with a few chosen, fiercely punctuated words. But at others, she's a comfort.

When Zoe was younger she often felt isolated; from her peers as from the world. She liked to read, and to sit with her head resting up against the glass of her bedroom window. It happens less frequently now, but when the familiar feeling rises in her again she still likes to sit, her head against the window, watching the activity on the grey street below her.

When she was younger she used to think at these moments that she'd like a lover to kiss her- just softly, just gently- and to bring her out of the numbing lull of her depression. Someone who understood her, someone to hold her, and kiss her.

She is sitting in Tessa's flat, waiting for her to come home (one day Tessa slipped a key into her pocket, provocatively, when no one was looking) her head up against the glass. Tessa always lets herself in quietly, and before Zoe really knows that she is not alone, Tessa is there with her, sitting beside her on the large, empty window sill- hip to hip- her hand snaking around Zoe's waist. She kisses the column of Zoe's throat, slowly, seductively, softly. Tessa certainly understands her. It is starting to rain and the traffic light colours of the London night begin to blur together as Tessa keeps kissing her neck, opening the buttons of her shirt, her hand slipping gently inside to cup her breast.

Tessa keeps kissing her, undeterred by Zoe's initial lack of response. On this occasions she doesn't mind waiting. Zoe feels her skin burn under Tessa's lips as her mouth moves up and Tessa kisses her on the cheek, brushing her cheekbone faintly with her tongue. One side of her face is burning from Tessa's lips and the other side is cool against the window.

At last she turns her head back in towards Tessa and meets her lips with her own. Tessa can sometimes be a comfort.

…**...**

They never leave the Grid together. But sometimes they go home together. It's an odd arrangement but a good one. Zoe leaves first, and takes the Underground. And Tessa will always be there waiting for her in a cab in a street just off Baker Street Station. Zoe will get in, and they will drive off without so much as a word.

They could just go their own separate ways to Tessa's, but Tessa prefers it this way. It ensures that Zoe will be there when she wants her; it means she can keep a beautiful, wary eye on her.

That and the fact that there is no better aphrodisiac than a restrained taxi ride into North London where they are compelled to keep their hands off each other for the duration. Sitting apart in the back of the cab, they both look out of their respective windows, trying to concentrate- or at least Zoe is- on anything other than the aching need that this proximity to Tessa causes.

As soon as they are through the front door they are kissing each other, pushing jackets to the floor, pulling shirts over each other's heads, kicking their shoes off. Tessa is thin and slender but she is surprisingly strong; she can lift Zoe and she does, more than once, lifting her at the foot of the stairs and setting her down a few stairs above her so she can look at her, with a predatory look in her eye, ready to explore her, to ravish her, at the bottom of the stairs.

On one occasion she tears her underwear off her.

"Don't worry," she murmurs in her ear, discarding the scrap of material on the floor, "You can wear some of mine tomorrow."

And she does; Tessa produces a pare of the most divine black satin knickers in the morning, tells her to put them on.

"And, yes, if you're wondering," Tessa tells her from where she's reclining once more on the bed, still completely undressed, "I have fucked you in those knickers. More than once."

Languidly, she gets up again, walks naked to her dressing table, starts to put on her perfume, tilting the open-necked bottle onto her wrists and then raising her wrist to her neck.

"Don't worry about keeping them dry."

…**...**

There's something fiercely territorial about their relationship. Not on Zoe's side; the fact that Tessa might well have slept with everyone in MI5, from the D.G. to the most humble private secretary is something Zoe is just going to have to make her peace with.

But Tessa is innately possessive. She offers Zoe the money for a flat of her own. She knows Tessa doesn't like the idea of her living with Danny; though Zoe's never told her about the time that they almost kissed she would be a fool not to credit Tessa's instincts. Tessa swears she's nothing like threatened by Danny, and in a way Zoe almost believes her. She thinks the depth of the possession she feels might go beyond the notion of threat; nothing can threaten what Tessa knows is hers. But still, she goes out of her way when Danny is there to show that Zoe is hers; squeezing her shoulder gently as she leaves her desk, leaning in a little closer to Zoe just because she can. Zoe catches Danny's raised eyebrows but he doesn't say anything.

But Tessa's possessiveness has another shade to merely asserting a right; protection.

One evening on the Grid, Zoe is getting ready for dinner with a threat they have been observing. Harry has decided that they need more information, so he's sending Zoe in. The man is something of a loose canon, an Italian, rich, a notorious womaniser. Zoe catches the look of murder in Tessa's eyes when she takes the dress she's been given to wear down to the ladies' room to change.

Harry had been tactful enough to suggest that as Tessa has done this before, in her younger days of course, she might be able to talk to Zoe, who might be nervous, after all she's never been flaunted quite so like a honey-trap before.

Tessa does not say anything when she walks into the bathroom. She catches Zoe's eye in the mirror, and scans downwards, taking in the way the dress hugs her bosom.

"Wear that dress when you come home tonight," she tells her, and then, taking a step closer to her, put hers hands on her hips, kisses the base of her neck and murmurs in a softer voice, "If he lays a hand on you, I'll kill him."

It's a promise, Zoe realises, meeting Tessa's eyes in the glass. A promise for a promise.

…**...**

There is a weird uncertain symmetry to the pair of them. They reflect and contrast, as their shapes move in the half-light in Tessa's bedroom mirror. She's never been with a woman before, never had this intensely candid scope for comparison. They both have short, light-ish hair; their shoulders curve the same way. Tessa's breasts are smaller than Zoe's but her hips are a touch wider. Zoe likes that, likes Tessa's flatter, but in no way boyish, chest. Her narrow waist flares out beautifully into her wider hips, and is perfect to touch, to hold on to, to pull her closer. The abruptness of her hips is beautiful but... unusual. Zoe wonders if she was pregnant once, a few months gone, but dismisses the though. Tessa has light, neatly waxed curls at her centre. They both have long legs, but Tessa's are slimmer.

Zoe likes to have her breasts kissed; Tessa prefers hands, everywhere. She likes to be kissed at her centre, Zoe likes Tessa's fingers inside her.

They are both in agreement, very vocal agreement, that they like it best when they sit in each other's laps, pushing their wet folds together, rubbing frantically against each other, desperate for the delicious friction that drives them over the edge, that has them both screaming in release.

There is a compatibility, a symmetry between them as they move together, two matching shapes in a mirror.

**Please review if you have the time. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for your reviews and encouragement, they mean so much. **

The first time it happened was...different, and difficult, for Zoe. She'd never done it before, she hardly knew what to make of it. Tessa, on the other hand, was very certain indeed, very assured, and very demanding, almost relentless.

They were close before they were lovers; even before they were lovers Tessa seemed to be able to tell what Zoe was thinking. Tessa knew, Zoe realises now, just as she always knows. She could tell what was going through Zoe's head; how she found herself suddenly curious, and curiously drawn to Tessa. She knew what Zoe had imagined-...Tessa must have known before Zoe did, and she did nothing to play it down. She would brush her hand over Zoe's when handing her something; deliberately allow her gaze to linger- provocatively- when they exchanged looks. She encouraged her, silently, without so much as a word. She didn't need a word; one look from Tessa was enough to tempt anyone.

And one day, or nearer evening, night, it was getting on and even Harry had gone home, in the briefing room, suddenly it happened. They were sitting beside one another, examining reports over cold coffee, and then Tessa's hand was in her lap. Delicately, tenderly almost, moving slowly as if she was coaxing an animal that could easily scare, Zoe watched as Tessa's hand gently prized the gap between her thighs, dipping between them. Zoe let out a ragged breath. Tessa's eyes were fixed on her face, her eyebrows raised slightly in something almost like a challenge, and with every second that passed she knew the chances of reasonably stopping this lessened. She knew that if she was truthful she didn't want to stop it, but still-... this frightened her. Tessa, the hungry look in her eye that Zoe had seen before was back and back more brilliantly than Zoe had ever known it, frightened her.

She let out a low involuntary gasp as Tessa's fingers pressed insistently into her groin through her trousers and she felt a flush of moisture at her centre. Tessa's eyes are still fixed, almost unblinkingly, on her face.

"Zoe," she murmurs, her voice low, perfectly controlled, "You know you want this."

She could contradict her. She could take hold of her hand and put it firmly back on the arm of her chair. But she's sure Tessa can probably feel the wetness through her trousers now- Tessa is so close and she is so wet- and Tessa's eyes forbid it.

Her fingers still pressing at Zoe's centre, Tessa leans forwards, and Zoe's back arches slightly as the pressure increases. Nudging the hair away from Zoe's ear with her nose, Tessa runs her tongue around the outside of her ear, down to the lobe, nibbling gently on it. She is softer than Zoe had expected, more tender but still with that forceful edge. Tessa will not be denied.

Her mouth is still so near Zoe's ear.

"Your body is begging for me," she whispers, then, pitched halfway between demand and request, "Let me take you home. Let me show you-..."

Zoe whimpers as Tessa gently bites the top of her ear, the moisture of her lower lip dragging across the ridges of skin.

And so they ended up in a cab together. Ended up rolling around Tessa's bed together, pulling at each other's clothes, racing to undress each other.

Tessa waits until they're both naked then takes the lead; she makes it absolutely clear that she knows what she's doing when she pulls Zoe towards her, clutching at her bare breasts, for a searing kiss, demanding access to Zoe's mouth, sucking her tongue until she moans into her mouth. She pushes Zoe backwards onto the bed with one hand on her shoulder, the other pushing her legs apart, Zoe parts them immediately this time, and parting her folds gently with her fingers.

Tessa goes tortuously slowly then, rolling Zoe's nub carefully between her fingers so that Zoe whimpers and her hips arch off the bed towards her, desperate for more. Tessa teases her deliberately, inching her fingers away so that she begs for more, until finally Tessa sinks a single finger into a certain spot and moves the tip in a furious circular motion.

"Yes, Tessa, oh, yes, oh, fuck-...!"

She comes hard against Tessa's hand, her hips bucking off the bed.

And before she's even had time to recover she feels Tessa's fingers tracing a delicate pathway through her folds- giving her another delicious shot of pleasure to tag onto the end of what she thinks may be the most powerful orgasm she's ever had- and Tessa's head dips down, kissing her breasts, lapping at her nipples before she slips a finger inside her; just one at first, then adding another and then another.

By the time Tessa's used her mouth to bring her to a third orgasm, Zoe is numb from pleasure and hoarse from screaming. The vibrations of Tessa's voice as she talks against Zoe's clitoris, which she is busy lapping at, is enough to bring Zoe to a howling climax, never mind what Tessa is saying.

"I'm going to teach you to how do this, Zoe. Would you like that? Would you like to do this to me?"

Zoe sobs with pleasure as she collapses against the mattress again, against the expensive sheets. Tessa's arms encircle her, and hold her as she lies there shaking, her head pressed to Tessa's bosom, breathing ragged. Tessa's thigh slips carefully between her legs and she feels Tessa's palpable, dripping wetness against her own thigh. Tessa takes care of herself quickly, riding against Zoe's leg, and Zoe does the best she can to help her in the state she's in, kissing her nipples fervently as her breathing returns slowly to its normal rate.

As Tessa sinks back down to lie beside her, it's with a satisfied smile on her face. She doesn't mind waiting for her turn if this is what it takes to bring Zoe back.

And it works. It's not so much a question of bringing her back, more how the fuck was she ever going to leave after that?

The next day she is so sore she can barely sit. It feels as if her whole groin is swollen and burning, Tessa has fucked her that hard. She presses her thighs together to try to stop the pain and that only makes her awfully, embarrassingly wet. Her face flushes and she has to settle herself very gingerly, avoiding contact with her chair. Tessa catches her once, and notes with a satisfied smirk the pained expression on her face, because she knows _exactly_ what's causing it.

The only thing that can stop the pain is a special kind of pressure, and that pressure has to come from Tessa. They both know that she is going to turn up on the doorstep of Tessa's flat that evening. The smile on Tessa's lips says it all.

As soon as she is across the threshold, Tessa has her pinned against the door. Zoe's knees are weak and on this occasion Tessa is too distracted shoving her tongue into Zoe's mouth and her hand between Zoe's legs to catch her and they slide down to the floor.

Zoe is desperate and in moments she has her tights and knickers off and Tessa has got rid of her own trousers. Too quick, too hungry for Tessa at the moment, it is Zoe who pushes Tessa back this time, straddling her stomach with her wetness, but Tessa, as usual, knows exactly how to turn the tables on her. Reaching her hand out, she touches Zoe exactly where she needs her, where she has ached for her, burned for her all day, pressing her finger right in the spot and moving so beautifully firmly. Zoe keens in surprise and pleasure and it's all Zoe can do to just ride against Tessa's hand, rutting herself unashamedly, concentrating only on the blissful relief it brings her.

She comes all over Tessa's stomach and thighs.

When she comes back to herself, collapsed against Tessa's rumpled white shirt front, she looks up into Tessa's eyes. Her centre is pressed flush against Tessa's pale, slender stomach and they are both soaking.

Raising Zoe's head, Tessa kisses her on the lips, and Zoe understands. It is her turn now.

Sitting up, she undoes the front of Tessa's blouse, exposing Tessa's breasts, held in a black lace bra of an almost obscenely open weave, once more. She licks her nipples through the lace, trailing kisses down to her stomach, licking her own wetness off Tessa's stomach, and continues down.

She is never, never leaving.

**Please review if you have the time.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm feeling a bit braver writing these two now, but also wondering whether I'm in character in places. I'd love to know what you think. **

They sleep practically on top of each other when they are finished- Zoe wants to call it making love but she doesn't think she can. They're passionate, and she knows she loves Tessa, but she can't call it that. But it isn't only sexual; the chemical closeness between them is such that neither of them want to move apart after they've fucked. Tessa lies on her back, and clasps Zoe to her chest. Zoe uses her bosom like a pillow, which suits her just fine. More often than not, Zoe sleeps between Tessa's thighs, and wakes to find slick wetness against her hip.

She clasps her to her chest, but it's the clasp on holding an object- a possession- rather than a person. She doesn't cradle her. There's nothing... sentimental about it. It's pragmatic; they want to be close and it keeps them close. Zoe usually puts her hands on Tessa's shoulders, holding on superfluously.

But on one occasion-... One single occasion-...

There is a bomb scare in Westminster, near Parliament Square. Tom and Zoe are sent there, with a team from Special Ops. They manage to isolate the suspected bomber before he gets to the Underground station and disappears. He has a gun. They haven't managed to clear the area and as soon as civilians catch sight of it, chaos breaks loose. Tom tries to calm them, make them get away with the Special Ops men; leaving Zoe unguarded for a moment. The suspect fires.

Zoe hits the pavement, and all she can see is the sky. She wonders if she is dead, there is a splitting pain in her head and in her abdomen. And above her, at a short distance away, she can see Tessa. She is dead.

Then Tessa bends down, touches her cheek. She is surprised that she can feel her. Perhaps she's real-...

"Where is he?" she asks, panicked.

"It's alright," Tessa tells her, "He's in a police car on the way to Scotland Yard."

It's Tessa's voice alright. She can hardly believe she's here.

"You're at the Grid," she mumbles in confusion.

Tessa shakes her head.

"I was in the control car on the corner of Parliament Square," Tessa tells her softly, her hand on her hair, "I was just around the corner."

Zoe blinks.

"What happened?" she asks stupidly, "Have I been shot?"

"No," Tessa replies, "One of the Special Ops team pushed you out of the way. He got in the way instead."

"Is he-...?"

Tessa nods haltingly.

"Yes, Zoe, I'm sorry, he's dead."

Zoe just lies there for a few moments, completely still, unable to move from the pain. And then she chokes with tears. But Tessa's hand is still on her head- it is the only thing rooting her to the earth, giving her a sense of direction- and then her other hand moves around to Zoe's shoulder. She is cradling her gently, holding her as she cries, in the middle of the street.

Even when the who have been attending to the dead man come to see her- bawled at by Tom for not coming to her sooner- Tessa refuses to let go, and only does so when Tom leads her carefully to the side.

…**...**

Zoe is under no illusions. They are not a couple, they just sleep together. Yes, they practically live together through the week- and there has been the odd weekend day when they haven't been further than Tessa's bathroom- but they are not a couple. She would never call Tessa her girlfriend ( and lover leaves such a bitter taste in her mouth from the innate ironic assumptions of the word). It's only sex. Sex, and casual bodily comfort of another sort that Zoe cannot name. She doesn't think she's ever eaten a meal alone with Tessa. If she's going to meet her, she picks up something and eats it on the Underground, and Tessa doesn't eat breakfast. They have never watched television together and she supposes going out for dinner really is out of the question.

But one night they are lying in bed and Tessa murmurs, almost thoughtfully; "I'm starving."

She says it almost childishly, petulantly, and Zoe's lips quirk into a smile.

Tessa gets out of bed and puts on her dressing gown. It's a dark burgundy silk, short, revealing her gorgeous, slender legs right up to the middle of her thigh. Zoe is astounded that she's never seen it; they're always so busy fucking that Tessa has never put it on in front of her before.

Tessa pads around the bedroom on the phone, looking incredibly sexy in her dressing gown. There's an Italian place in Convent Garden that's open all night and Tessa knows a driver from Thames House who'll pick something up from her. Zoe's not surprised, any man in London would do anything for Tessa, particularly if they get a glimpse of her in that dressing gown through the gap in the door.

Tessa brings the food up and they eat it in bed. Zoe is surprised to see that Tessa's ordered pudding too. It's a raspberry pannacotta. Tessa kisses her with the red fruit still on her lips, licks and sucks her collarbone so that Zoe's neck is covered with little premature lovebites. She kisses Zoe's lips too, and the redness is on Zoe's lips too. She unties Tessa's dressing gown so that it parts, exposing her breasts. Zoe kisses the valley between Tessa's breasts leaving red marks, slightly fainter but still bright on Tessa's pale skin, there too.

The dressing gown is still on Tessa's shoulders, and Zoe clutches at the shimmering material across Tessa's back as they fall back onto the bed, tangled up in each other once more.

When they are finished, Zoe's lips are tender, red and swollen from kissing and being kissed. She lies between Tessa's legs, covering her body with her own, and pulls the red dressing gown over them both.

…**...**

It's embarrassing, at least it is for Zoe, when they both realise that as far as Zoe's legends go, her fake mother is generally Tessa. It's there, prepared in a file, for the next time she goes undercover, the photo ready to be framed and go up on the wall of whatever safehouse is going to be her flat is a photo of Tessa. Tessa, on the other hand, finds it hilarious when Zoe tells her. And Tessa has a wicked, dirty laugh that hardly helps matters.

"It's not funny!" Zoe hisses, worried that other people on the Grid will stare.

"Oh, Zoe," she murmurs, swallowing a last deviant laugh, giving her a disdainful pitying look, "If you can't get something out of the irony of that, then I'm afraid I don't know what to do with you."

"I do get _something _out of the irony," Zoe retorts quietly, "I get moderate distaste out of it, actually."

Tessa gives her a wry look before glancing back at her computer.

"We're not in a Greek tragedy, darling," she reminds her lightly, turning over one of the papers on her desk, "If I thought it was anything to worry about I'd have become a Freudian psychologist."

Zoe's mouth falls open at Tessa's flippant lack of concern. Tessa notices and looks at Zoe fixedly now, her expression one of deadpan disinterest.

"Ask Tom to have it changed if it bothers you so much," she tells her flatly, "Ask him to be your surrogate mother."

Tessa really had asked for this one.

"Oh, I don't think I'd better to that," she replies in a low voice, bending over so only Tessa can hear her, "I'd be far better of asking him to be my lover instead."

She knows she has struck home. Tessa tries not to react, but her lips part a little in surprise, and she does not say anything. Zoe doesn't think that she can. She gives her a small cold smirk and walks away from Tessa's desk, back to the photocopying room where she has been examining her own file.

She is standing by the table, looking at the papers when she hears the door shut behind her. She doesn't have time to look round before there are hands on her hips and the small of her back, and Tessa has her bent over the table. She gasps in shock, she is pressed flat into the glass surface. Tessa's groin is pressed flush into her bottom and her lips are on her neck as her hand leaves Zoe's hips and pushes up under her skirt.

"Don't," Tessa tells her, her voice harsher than Zoe's ever heard it, "Ever again," reaching her knickers, her fingers shove them to the side and push inside her, hard, "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Zoe whimpers, "Tessa-..."

Tessa's other hand dips under her skirt too and nips her clitoris, rubbing her leg against Zoe's wetness until she swears and comes, swearing quietly and sprawled out across the table. Tessa withdraws quickly, leaving her there, uncovered and undone.

"You can make it up to me tonight."

**Please review if you have the time. **


	5. Chapter 5

**This is the last chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who has read and let me know what they think. I don't feel like I'm quite finished with Zoe and Tessa yet and I have some ideas for some other stories I could write, but if anyone has any prompts for them that they'd like me to do, just inbox me them or send them to me on tumblr. I hope you like this final chapter, please let me know.**

"Who is he, then?"

Zoe looks up distractedly from the notes she is reading in the middle of the sofa.

"Sorry?"

Danny has a glass of wine in his hand and is watching her with some interest.

"Come on," he tells her quietly, "There's got to be someone. This is the first night you've been home all week. I'm only curious."

"He's no one," Zoe tells him softly, looking back down at her notes.

"I don't believe you," Danny decides, leaning back, still watching her a little sleepily, "Your always dressed up at work these days, and you've always got that expensive perfume on."

Zoe flushes a little at that, but refuses to let her embarrassment creep into her expression.

"Have you got a crush on Tom?"

"Danny!" she chides him, laughing a little at the thought, "Don't be silly!"

"Alright," he laughs a little too, "I was just checking. He must be someone special, though," he adds a moment later, glancing at Zoe again, "To go through all that trouble."

"Danny," she tells him again, her tone one of warning; and then she relaxes again, looking back down at the notes, "He isn't anyone special, and I don't go to any trouble. Anyway," she adds, almost against her better judgement, "I borrow the perfume from someone."

"Oh," he raises an eyebrow, "Who?"

Definitely against her better judgement. She swallows, looking down at her notes.

"Tessa," she tells him.

"That's nice of her," there's something dry and sarcastic in Danny's tone.

She knows Tessa doesn't exactly have a reputation for sweetness, she knows that she doesn't from first hand experience, but still she smarts a little.

"Yes," she tells him, a little sharply, "I think it is, actually."

…**...**

After the first few times they're together the initial mindless instincts the helped Zoe just about keep her head above water have worn off somewhat and Tessa is also growing wary of taking the lead. Zoe is scared; it hasn't hit her before but she hardly knows what to do. Suddenly she feels very timid when she's in bed with Tessa and she has to be coaxed, gently drawn out all over again. Normally she would be willing to just go with her instincts, allow herself to be guided by her delicious fantasies of Tessa, but there was something about her; something unforgiving, something that forbade mistake. Sex with Tessa so far had been incredible and she didn't want to spoil it.

They are lying in bed, kissing, their underwear discarded on the floor with the rest of their clothes. Rolling onto her back, Tessa pulls Zoe with her. She pushes her a little distance away, looking up into her eyes from where she lies on the mattress.

"Now," Tessa murmurs to her, chewing her lower lip a little as she speaks, "What have you imagined doing to me, Zoe?"

Zoe's breath shudders a little in surprise and she knows Tessa can feel it against her lips. Tessa closes her eyes a little and laughs quietly at Zoe's shock. Zoe calms down a little and Tessa keeps her eyes closed.

Carefully, tentatively, Zoe rolls them both back so they are lying on their sides, facing one another. She reaches out, brushes one hand softly over Tessa's breast and stomach in a sweeping line, thoughtfully almost, down to rest on her hip.

"Tessa," she asks at last, her voice coming uncertainly and timidly, "Do you have a-... a vibrator?"

Tessa's eyes flutter open immediately and Zoe looks back in them apprehensively. What she sees there almost makes her gasp again. Tessa looks impressed; she looks aroused.

"Oh, Zoe, my darling," she almost purrs at her, her eyes falling shut again, "I thought you'd never ask."

…**...**

Tessa's control is superb, in everything she does. On the Grid she can command absolute respect and attention without having to so much as raise her voice; she can silence Harry with a look. When they're in the field- whatever the event, drinks, meetings, at dinner- Tessa can be inconspicuous or alternatively have all eyes on her, seemingly at will. She plays with people's minds, Zoe's sure of it, and gets quite a kick out of it, she imagines. She can be cruel, and she can be gentle. She is incredible, Zoe thinks.

Even when they're in bed, even when Zoe is supposed taking the lead, Tessa is absolutely in charge. Even with Zoe's hand between her legs, her hips bucking against Zoe's fingers, Tessa can open her eyes and have a look of sublime contented power. It's enough to take Zoe's breath away, that look makes her giddy; the power and passion glinting in Tessa's tawny, aroused eyes. When she sees it she always kisses her; she has to kiss her, clutching her face with her other hand, pressing her lips against her. It's all she can do.

…**...**

Except one day, Zoe comes round and Tessa's not as she usually is. She isn't composed. She isn't controlled. Nor is she shaking, or crying, nor is a hair out of place. But she's lying on the sofa, her arms folded around her stomach, her knees curled up to her chest.

She does not look up or make any sign of having heard that Zoe has entered the room. Zoe hovers uncertainly in the doorway. Tessa's shoes stand neatly on the floor in front of her, and she lies there in her stockinged feet. She seems to be intensely concentrating, worlds away.

There are two wine glasses, both empty, on the table before her. Zoe wonders who was there but knows she cannot ask. Whoever it was has obviously upset Tessa and she'd rather not know anyway.

She moves hesitantly forward, sitting down on the sofa beside Tessa's head. She places a hand on Tessa's hair, smooths a finger over her ear, caressing her gently, silently willing her to to tell her what is wrong.

When Tessa's voice comes forth it is softer than normal, and a fraction higher. She is not crying but there are tears in voice; Zoe has never heard them there before, and the sound surprises her, it sounds strange.

"Have you ever been in love?" Tessa asks her.

There is a pause.

"Yes," Zoe replies, "Once."

She cannot bring herself to say _"With you."_

…**...**

She likes it when they take a shower together. It was a habit they fell in to in order to save time in the morning- because more often than not Zoe has quick dash back to her and Danny's flat to do in order to find some clean clothes. She likes being held up against the wall by Tessa, the warm water falling down over their breasts, pressed together, with Tessa's thigh between her own.

She likes Tessa's hair wet against her skin as she sucks her ear. She likes the tiles against her back. Doing it this way means that Tessa nearly always ends up holding on to her throughout; holding her to support her. She likes the feeling of hot, wet skin together; she likes how literally steamy this becomes. Tessa's pale flesh looks heavenly in the whiteness of the steam. She likes how the only thing that can be heard over the powerful whir of the shower, the sound of the water hitting the tiles and the shower door, is their gasps and moans, and only when they're being particularly vocal.

It means that if any confessions inadvertently slip out as she comes, they can go unheard, which is as good as forgotten and forgiven.

…**...**

When she finds out about Tessa's phantom agents she doesn't want to believe it. She wouldn't, if Tessa hadn't told her from her own lips.

Her resistance to believing it is such that, even when Harry has forbidden all contact between Tessa and the rest of the team, she goes back to Tessa's flat, for what she tells herself is one last time.

"I can't stand it," she tells her, fiercely, "I can't stand thinking about it. Why did you do it, Tessa?"

She is ready for the familiar, casual reply.

"For the money."

"You sold us all out for cash," Zoe translated, standing above her, "You risked lives, mine probably, more than once, for money. Why on earth did you think for one moment that that was a good enough reason?"

Tessa looks up at her from where she sits on the sofa, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"I took what I deserved, Zoe," she explains calmly, "The Service has treated me like filth- cheap filth at that- for years. Keeping me as Harry's glorified messenger girl when I could easily have done his job, and better than him. Hasn't it been proved by the way he's treated me now?"

Zoe narrows her eyes.

"You're unbelievable," she tells her quietly.

"Oh, I'm unbelievable?" Tessa raises an eyebrow dangerously, "Listen to you talking to me like this about money and morals. You don't understand, Zoe. What do you think paid for the obscenely expensive sheets you come all over every night? You've taken as much as I have."

Zoe flushes with a mixture of embarrassment, arousal and anger.

"What happened to you, Tessa?" she asks at last, her voice shaking a little, "How did you end up so bitter?"

Tessa smiles sadly, her eyes fall shut.

"I was born bitter, Zoe."

She stands up, so she is at Zoe's height once more, looking into her eyes. Zoe wants to look away but can't. That's always how it's been.

"What happened to me?" Tessa murmurs softly, "What happened to _you_? Which of us do you really think has changed the most? After all, you're still here, aren't you?"

Zoe cannot speak. She doesn't know what she can possibly say. So she kisses Tessa, or submits to Tessa's kiss. Time and space around her have collapsed too far for her to know which.

**End.**

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